


So, have you heard the one that goes...

by Clell65619



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-16 17:48:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 15,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29457762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clell65619/pseuds/Clell65619
Summary: A collection of old jokes, Potterized for your protection.  Older jokes can be a bit blue, you've been warned.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 22





	1. Chapter 1

Hermione rushed into the Medical Wing in a panic. The sixth year had foregone going to Hogsmeade for the chance to do a bit of quiet revision. And ever since she discovered how to ask the Room of Requirements to produce the Library of Alexandria, accurate in ever detail except all of the books, scrolls and tablets were written in English, the Room had become her favorite study spot in the castle. She only discovered that something out of the ordinary for a Hogsmeade Saturday when she had emerged for dinner and learned that Voldemort had attacked the wizarding village.

And that Harry, Ron, and Neville were all in the Hospital wing after rallying the assembled students to somehow defeat the Dark Lord and his followers. She ignored the party that had broken out in nearly every part of the castle to find her friends.

"Hey, Hermione," Ron waved from his bed as she entered the Medical Wing. "Look, mates, it's Hermione."

"Hi, Hermione," Neville and Harry chorused happily.

"What did you three do?" she demanded. "How did you defeat Vol… Vol… The Dark Lord?"

"Who?" Neville asked before the three boys started giggling.

"Miss Granger," Poppy Pomfrey said from behind her, "all three of my patients are suffering from extended Cruciatus exposure. The only thing I could do to treat their pain was to administered inadvisable amounts of several pain killing potions. As a result of that, they are quite literally feeling no pain and are quite incoherent. I have not been able to determine if they have suffered any permanent cognitive damage and will not be able to until after they recover from the curse. So far, you are the only one they have recognized."

"Oh, dear," the brunette said, fearing the worst.

"Your spending time with them, speaking with them, keeping them focused can only help," Poppy continued.

"I can do that," Hermione nodded before turning back to the three boys.

"Are you lot alright?" she asked.

"Hello Hermione," Neville laughed. "Look, Lads, Hermione's here."

"Where have you been, Hermione?" Ron asked.

"You missed all the fun," Harry noted. "Madam Rosmerta was serving her butterbeer with a scoop of vanilla ice-cream in the mug. It was great!"

"Bleh," Neville said, sticking his tongue out. "That was horrible, Harry."

"Yeah," Ron agreed. "I don't think Harry's right in the head."

"As soon as Madam Pomphrey lets us out of these beds, we'll see who's not right in the head, Weasley," Harry responded hotly.

"Psst, Hermione," Neville whispered, distracting Hermione from her posturing friends.

"What is it Neville?" she responded.

"Do you know where the Dark Lord kept his armies?" Longbottom asked.

Finally, she was going to find out what happened in Hogsmeade. "Where, Neville, where did he keep them?"

"In his sleevies!" the young man laughed.

"In his sleevies?" Harry echoed.

"Nev, you're hilarious," Ron agreed.

"Boys," Hermione said quietly, wondering why she bothered, "I have to head down for dinner, but I'll be back right after."

"Okay," the three chorused with wide smiles on their faces.

"Before I go, I want to make sure you're okay. Could you all do a simple math problem for me?"

"Sure, Hermione," Harry agreed.

"Okay, Harry, what is three times three?"

Harry concentrated for a minute before answering, "931."

Oh, that wasn't good, the brunette thought. "Ron, how about you, what is three times three?"

"Tuesday!" Ron announced with a big grin.

Oh, dear, she thought before moving to her third friend. "Alright Neville, what's three times three?"

"Nine," Neville said confidently.

"Good job, Neville," she said feeling relief. If one of the trio had the ability to think logically, however minimally, there was hope for their recovery. "I'll be back after dinner; the elves are bringing yours now."

After Hermione had left the Medical Wing and the trio were digging into their meals, Ron broke the silence. "Neville, I never knew you were so good at math."

"Yeah," Harry agreed. "How did you do that?"

"It was simple," Neville said as he started in on his pudding. "When you two were answering, I didn't have a clue, but then it came to me, all I had to do was divide 931 by Tuesday."

"Oh," Harry nodded in understanding.

"So smart," Ron said shaking his head.


	2. Watch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Daphne break up.

Hermione and Ron finally found Harry sitting in the Great Hall, most of an hour early for dinner. The dark-haired wizard was sitting, clearly dazed, but also seemingly bemused by his experience.

"There you are, Mate," Ron said sliding onto the bench to Harry's right.

Hermione took her place on his left. "Have you spoken with Daphne?" she asked hesitantly.

"We heard she's gonna break it off with you," Ron said before he received the furious glare from Hermione.

"We weren't going to bring that up, Ronald," she spat.

"Oh, I knew," Harry laughed weakly. "Whatever we had, Daphne and I have always been honest with each other."

"Who did she throw you over for, Harry," Ron asked. "We can find him and explain where he went wrong poaching your bird."

"Ronald!" Hermione scolded again.

"It's a lad thing, Hermione," Ron sniffed, "You wouldn't understand."

"I wouldn't understand?" she shouted, rising to her feet.

"Calm down, both of you." Harry laughed while shaking his head. "It IS a lad thing, Hermione, and you don't understand."

"Ha!" Ron crowed in victory.

"And you don't understand either, Ron. I already told you that Daphne and I were always honest with each other," Harry stopped and smiled at the glass of water that appeared in front of him. "Thank you, Dobby," he said as he lifted the glass to his lips for a sip. "Daphne introduced me to her new friend."

"Who?" his two friends chorused.

"Ginny," he sighed.

"Ginny?" Hermione echoed.

"Our Ginny?" Ron demanded.

"Yeah," Harry nodded, "So, we aren't going to 'explain where she went wrong', Ron. Ginny can be scary."

"Ginny likes girls?" Ron asked in a daze.

"It seems that she and Daphne had a fight over something stupid, probably me, and they both discovered they like girls..." again, Harry took on an expression of bemusement, "or at least each other. They decided to experiment a bit to see if it was real."

"Experiment a bit?" Hermione asked.

"Okay, experiment a whole lot," Harry sighed with a smile.

"Mum is going to go mental," Ron predicted.

"They explained that they were going to be exclusive, but Daphne felt bad about ending it with me and insisted on getting me a gift." He pulled up his left sleeve to display his new watch.

"Oh, my," Hermione said as she took hold of Harry's left arm and pulled it toward her. "This is amazing, Harry, this is quite an extravagant gift."

"You don't seem thrilled, Mate," Ron observed. "I mean I've never been much of a watch man, but that's a brilliant watch."

"Oh, no, don't get me wrong," Harry said, "It's a lovely watch, but she misunderstood me."

"Misunderstood you?" Hermione asked. "How do you mean?"

"Well, there I was, losing a girlfriend and a girl who might have been if I played my cards right, they were telling me about their relationship, and Daphne asked if there was anything I wanted."

"Yeah?" Ron asked.

"She completely misunderstood me when I said 'I wanna watch.'"


	3. Just Tastes Better

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Voldemort attacks and demands that a captured Harry Potter show him Potter's new Animagus form.
> 
> Mistakes were made.

It's official: The occasional pick-up game of Quidditch does NOTHING for your upper body strength. I had Ernie's right arm over my shoulders and I was struggling to stay upright, holding him upright with my left hand while trying to keep the pressure on the gushing wound on his right arm with my right hand.

I resolved to start working out if I survived the war.

Curses flew on either side of us, somehow missing both of us completely. Then I spotted Susan Bones peeking out from behind an overturned table.

"Susan," I gasped, sagging under Ernie's weight, "Help me!"

In an instant my housemate was with me, draping Ernie's left arm over her shoulder so as to help support his weight. "What happened?" She asked.

Together we hauled Ernie behind the tables where Hannah was waiting, her eyes going wide when she saw the blood gushing from our friend's right arm. Lowering Ernie to the floor as gently as I could I tried to maintain the pressure on his arm while drawing my wand to start casting every healing charm I knew.

Both of them.

Susan joined in my attempt to save Ernie with her own casting. She knew more healing spells than I did. A lot more. It seemed that being a pureblood had its advantages. Not that she was making any more progress than I was.

"He caught a cutting curse that we can't heal," I said abandoning my spell work to rip strips from the sleeves of my shirt. "Susan, put as much pressure on the wound as you can. The wally pushed me out of the way and was hit by the curse he saved me from." I wound three strips together before looping the resulting cord around his arm above the wound. I reached for a length of wood that had formerly been a strut on one of the chairs. I placed the wood inside the loop and began to twist until the pulses of blood slowed to a light trickle.

"What have you done, Justin?" Susan demanded when she removed her bloody hands away from Ernie's arm and examined my handiwork.

"Muggle technique," I explained without explaining. There were advantages to being Muggle-born as well it seems or at least a Muggle-born who had been a Boy Scout at one time. Attending Hogwarts had put paid to that, but I had gotten my first aid badge. "It's called a tourniquet. We'll need to keep a close eye on it because he could lose the arm, but it's better than bleeding out."

I peeked around the side of the overturned table to see what was happening in the fight and immediately pulled my head back. "I think I'd best get away from you lot," I whispered. "It looks like Potter's lost. Being associated with me isn't going to be good for you."

"You stay right where you are, Justin Finch-Fletchley," Hannah hissed. "My mum is a Muggle-born, and Susan's a Bones. None of us are on the Death Eaters' Christmas lists."

"Students of Hogwarts," the Dark Dink's voice echoed throughout the room, and presumably the rest of the castle. "Your hero is on his knees and has proven he is no match for me. Lay down your wands and live another day."

Yeah, that was going to happen. I knew we weren't going to have that much support, but it was clear that I would die badly if I allowed myself to be taken, and it wouldn't be much better for Susan or Hannah. I wasn't really a follower of Potter per se, having only been on the periphery of his antics at Hogwarts, but that wouldn't count for much in Voldemort's eyes.

"Harry, Harry, Harry," Voldemort continued in a condescending tone. "You didn't really think you could stand up to me magically did you?"

Susan did something to the table we were hiding behind, and suddenly it was almost as transparent as glass. This was apparently a one-way phenomenon, as no one appeared to be able to see us. We watched as Potter struggled to his feet. "I'll note that you didn't even try to fight me on your own, Tom," Potter said. I blinked in surprise to learn that a Dark Lord could have as mundane a name as 'Tom'. Tom Voldemort? What had his parents been thinking?

"Both Lucius and Peter attacked me from behind before you dared show up," Potter said, clearly mocking the man. That right there demonstrated the stupid bravery of the Gryffindors'. How did they survive thinking like that? "So, yeah, you got me, after having two of your followers soften me up while you bravely hid."

"You dare much, Harry Potter," Voldemort sneered. And I quite agreed. Still, 'Who dares, wins' and all that. After everything that had happened during our years at Hogwarts, Harry was still there. That says something about my classmate, I suppose. "My sources tell me that you believe your new animagus abilities will be the source of your survival. Show me your animal form, Harry. I'll let you die in it."

"Harry's an animagus?" Susan whispered from my side.

"Harry!" Hermione Granger called from the far side of the Great Hall, "Harry don't do it. You know you lack control!"

"But you must do it, Harry," Voldemort purred. "Change now, or I'll allow my Death Eaters to amuse themselves with your little friend."

Potter closed his eyes and appeared to concentrate for a moment, before pitching forward onto his hands. His body appeared to ooze into a new shape, it was not his hands that came into contact with the floor, but clawed paws. This new form was covered in jet black fur, except for the gray mantle, separated by a white stripe, extending from the crown of his head to the base of his tail. He was easily 5 feet from nose to tail, small black eyes took in the room, and the animagus grunted.

"That's it?" Hannah asked. "Just a badger?"

That's when I realized what I was seeing. "Oh, bloody hell," I whispered, crab walking away from the table, trying to put as much distance between Potter's new form and myself as possible. Who knew my mother's fascination with nature documentaries would ever turn out to be useful?

"Justin," Susan whispered. "What's wrong, it's just a badger. A big badger, but a badger."

"No, you're wrong," I tried to explain, "it's not just a badger."

"This form is your great hope?" Voldemort laughed. "I had so hoped for a challenge, but clearly Harry, you are not up to the task. Nagini!"

At its master's call, the huge snake appeared next to Voldemort.

"Ah, there you are, Nagini," the Dark Lord knelt to pet his familiar. "Young Harry thought to challenge us with this animagus form, Nagini. Since he's shown us his, why don't we show him mine, so that we might dine together?"

Voldemort's body melted into its own new shape. As we watched, he became a twin for his familiar.

"What do you mean Harry's not a badger?" Hannah demanded.

"Voldemort just made the worst mistake of his life," I whispered. "Potter isn't just a badger, he's a honey badger. They kill and eat… well, everything. But they love snakes."

Before I could blink, Harry was between the two snakes, with a horrific slash of his foreclaws, the Dark Lord's familiar was dead, its decapitated head arcing through the air to smack into the wall over my head, only to fall into my lap, staring at me with dead eyes.

I'll admit it, I screamed like a little girl.

"Harry's attacking like it doesn't matter if he gets bitten," Susan noted, pretending she hadn't heard my scream.

"He probably knows that he has to win to protect the rest of us," Hannah suggested, having kicked the dead snake's head off my lap and away from us.

"No," I disagreed. "He's fighting like that because Honey Badgers don't give a shit."

-oooOOOooo-

Voldemort in his snake form didn't last long against Harry the Honey Badger. The snake actually screamed as it died. Potter then launched himself at the nearest of the Death Eaters, attacking at the man's crotch, ripping the Death Eater's… junk away with a slash of his claws, before leaving the screaming man to fall to the ground as Harry attacked the next closest Dark Wizard. And the next. And the next. The Death Eaters tried to defend themselves, but they had as little luck as their master.

During this rampage of castration, I suspect every male student in the Great Hall found the urge to cross his legs. I know I did.

Once the Death Eaters were dealt with, Harry returned to the mangled bodies of the snakes and settled down to eat.

Madam Pomfrey rushed to where we hid behind the table, having been freed of the paralysis inflicted on her by the Late Tom Voldemort to start working on Ernie.

"Your work, I presume, Mr. Finch-Fletchley?" she said gesturing to the tourniquet.

"Yes," I admitted.

"Good work," she murmured, starting to case her healing charms on my unconscious friend. "You probably saved his life. I'll save his arm."

"Harry," Hermione Granger said in scolding tones, near where Potter was feasting on the raw snake. "You can't just eat Voldemort."

"Hrmph," the annoyed Honey Badger responded as he crunched his way through yet another mouthful of bones, clearly demonstrating that he, in fact, could eat Voldemort.

"Come on Mate," Ron Weasley interjected. "That's disgusting, and remember, this is coming from me. I'm an expert in disgusting eating."

"Hrmph," Potter grunted as he shuffled around to be facing away from his friends while continuing to eat.

"Our being able to see it isn't the problem, Harry," Hermione scolded. "It's the fact you're eating a human being."

"Hrmph," Potter replied in clear disagreement since he continued to consume the snake.

"Harry James Potter!"

Potter froze in place, and then slowly turned to face the new speaker.

Daphne Greengrass stood with her hands on her hips and a look of disgust on her face. "That is disgusting. Stop it right now. You don't know where he's been."

"Hrmph?" Potter whined.

"You change back right now," Daphne demanded.

"Hrmph!" Potter responded defensively.

"You change back right now, you idiot Gryffindor," Daphne repeated, "or there will be no sex for you tonight."

The Honey Badger heaved itself to his feet, melting and twisting to become Harry Potter once more. "Sorry," he said sheepishly. "You just don't understand how great everything tastes in that form."

"Did I ask for excuses?" Daphne asked imperiously.

"No," Potter said hanging his head.

Daphne reached out and grabbed onto Harry's tie, leading him from the Great Hall. "Let's get you cleaned up, you're disgusting."

The assembled student body and surviving staff watched in amazement as the young woman lead the slayer of Voldemort away like a small child.

"Well, he's certainly whipped," Ron noted.

"Excuse me?" Granger demanded whirling to face him.

"Nothing…" Ron backpedaled. "Nothing."

"Hmm," Susan hummed. "Potter and Greengrass? Never saw that coming."

"I did," Madam Pomphrey smiled, transfiguring a chair into a stretcher and levitating Ernie on to it. "Just won 50 Galleons in the Staff pool. I'd like you three to get Mr. Macmillan to the hospital wing while I look to see who else needs help."

The stretcher was lightened, so we easily lifted Ernie, me in the front, Susan and Hannah in the back, and we made our way out of the Great Hall. I may have accidentally kicked Lucius Malfoy as he law on the floor clutching at where his genitals should have been and screaming.

Like I said, accidentally.

On the way to the Hospital Wing, I started rehearsing in my head the scolding I was going to give Potter about watching where he threw his snakeheads. Some of us didn't have hot Slytherin Girlfriends who threatened to withhold sex and didn't need the embarrassment of publicly screaming like little girls.

I've since reconsidered. I doubt I'd ever try to start anything with Potter. Unless you're his hot Slytherin girlfriend, much like his animagus form, Harry Potter doesn't give a shit.


	4. Tom VS Tommy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom Riddle regales his Death Eaters with stories of his time before choosing to take up the exciting field of Dark Lording.

"But Master," Peter asked, groveling at the Dark Lord's feet. "You've told us of your time at Hogwarts, of your victories and achievements at the school, but you've never told us what you did over the holidays."

"Always so curious, aren't you Wormtail?" Voldemort laughed.

"My Lord," Lucius interjected, "many of us are curious about your rise to greatness. It is too late for us, of course, but if we could relay your method of success to our heirs."

"Positioning your son to challenge me, are you Lucius?" Voldemort purred dangerously.

"Never, My Lord," Malfoy denied vigorously.

"It's just that your achievements in the Dark Arts are unparalleled," Bellatrix simpered. "Tell us of your youth and how you came to be the God you became."

"Well," Voldemort sighed, "truth be told, I never set my sights on the Dark Arts until my first dream was taken from me."

"Who dared steal your dream, My Lord?" Lucius demanded. "He will die, today."

"Calm yourself, Lucius," Voldemort laughed. "He is long dead. Prior to meeting him, I was renowned as the best of the best. Money, drinks, women, they all flowed my way, until I happened upon the boy, only a few months younger than myself toiling away in a small amusement hall. And I made the biggest mistake of my life."

"What happened?" Peter asked.

"I challenged him, Wormtail. I challenged him and lost," Voldemort shook his head, sadly. "And just like that, it was over. My dream was dead, and the money, drinks, and women all went to the champion. When I returned to Hogwarts for my 6th year, I threw myself into the study of the Dark Arts as a way to soothe the pain."

The assembled Death Eaters sat in rapt silence for several seconds before Bellatrix spoke. "Surely he cheated?"

"No," Voldemort disagreed. "That deaf, dumb, and blind kid, sure played a mean pinball."


	5. Dennis Creevey saves the world

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evidence of Harry's death is found, and several Hogwarts students take exception

"Come on, Lav," Parvati laughed as she ducked into the alley, "shortcut!"

"Slow down, Parv," Lavender Brown called after her best friend. "You know I can't run in these shoes…" the girl seemingly proved her point by tripping.

"Oh, Merlin, no!" she screamed.

"What is it, Lav," Parvati asked, "are you hurt?"

"What?" Lavender asked, "no, look!"

Padma's sister bent over to look at what Lavender was pointing at before her eyes went wide. "Harry!"

Lavender shot her friend a filthy look before her expression softened. "Yeah."

"But," Parvati asked in disbelief, "what does this mean?"

"It means," Lavender said savagely, cradling the severed flesh to her breast, "those bastard Death Eaters have killed and dismembered Harry, and they're going to pay."

-oooOOOooo-

"I don't care who you are," Lavender called out to the assembled women of Hogwarts," and I don't care what house you're in, the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters have gone too far."

"Why should we care?" Daphne Greengrass asked from her place among the Slytherins. "Our families stand to benefit under the Dark Lord."

"How can you stand there and say that?" Hermione Granger demanded.

"Listen Mudblood…" Daphne started to respond.

"ENOUGH!" Parvati shouted. "None of you know what they've done. Show them Lav!"

Lavender's face lost her fury, and an expression of soul-crushing sorrow appeared in its place. Tears streaming from her face, she unwrapped what she knew to be the last piece of Harry Potter that any of them would ever see and displayed it to the assembled school girls.

"No. no. no. no." Hermione just shook her head in denial. "He said he was staying in the castle today."

"Harry!" Padma Patil screamed.

"But the Dark Lord promised he would live…" Pansy Parkinson said.

Hannah Abbott and Tracey Davis fell into each other's arms, sobbing.

"There will be a Death Eater Raid on Hogsmeade in forty-five minutes," Millicent Bulstrode said, coming to the front of the Slytherin girls. "The Dark Lord will be leading the raid. They will be portkeying in front of the Three Broomsticks."

"Millicent!" Daphne said in shocked tones.

"I don't care, Harry Potter was the first boy to treat me like a girl and not a troll. The Dark Lord promised… he promised…" the large girl broke down into tears of sorrow to match those of Lavender.

"We have half an hour to get ready," Padma said, taking control of the meeting. "Anyone not willing to help avenge Harry leaves now."

-oooOOOooo-

The Dark Lord Voldemort's first indication of failure was when the portkey delivered his Death Eaters and himself into a maelstrom of death.

His second was when his emergency portkey failed to function. His third was when he found he could not disapparate to save his life.

Not wanting to discover a fourth, he began to fight… with disappointing results. Every time he cast a killing curse, one of his Death Eaters was summoned into its path.

Then the sheer number of casting meant that all he could do was shield against the incoming magic, and watch helplessly as his Death Eaters fell, one by one as their shields failed. Emboldened his attackers came out from their cover.

To say Tom Riddle was shocked to find the vast majority of those standing against him were young girls would be a major understatement.

Voldemort's final surprise was when his shield shattered, not to a spell, but to the body of a huge, almost trollish girl, who drove through his barrier and performed what he dimly recognized as a rugby tackle to take him to the ground.

Once she had him down, the girl, who he recognized as Jamison Bullstrode's daughter, knelt upon his shoulders and rained down blows to his face, her hand covered in her family's signature knuckle dusters.

"This." Punch

"Is." Punch

"For." Punch

"Harry." Punch.

Tom Riddle's last thought on Earth was fairly mundane for a Dark Lord.

It was "What the hell did I do?"

-oooOOOooo-

Harry stood up and stretched, extending his arms over his head until he could hear his spine start to pop.

"What are the chances Ron remembered to get any of the sweets I asked for?" He asked.

"Oh, he remembered," Susan assured him, buttoning her blouse. "Of course, he'll have eaten half of it, and Hermione will be chastising him for doing so while stealing her share."

"True enough," Harry laughed. "Ready for a late dinner?"

"After today," she said throatily, "I could eat… you."

"What? Again?" He laughed again, holding open the door to the hallways of Hogwarts. "I'm not a machine, woman."

"I see," Susan giggled, "I guess I'll have to invent a 'stamina potion' for you."

"There is nothing wrong with my stamina," Harry protested. "It's just like a woman to think of a man as nothing more than an animated piece of meat for her pleasure." Harry looked around, "is it just me or does it seem awfully quiet tonight?"

Susan paused while waiting for the staircase to move into the position that they might continue their descent. "Now that you mention it, yes. I haven't seen anyone."

"Huh, weird," Potter said as they restarted their journey to the Great Hall. "Maybe something is happening in Hogsmeade. Like that time the Weird Sisters put on an unscheduled concert."

"Maybe," Susan said doubtfully. "That wouldn't explain why any of the first and second years aren't around."

"Well," Harry said, pushing open the door to the Great Hall, "Hopefully there's food, I'm starved."

As soon as the pair stepped into the Great Hall, the vast room went silent, except for twin shots of "HARRY!" as bruised and bloodied Hermione and Ron rushed to their friend.

Hermione got to him first, wrapping him in one of her patented hugs, "You're alive! You're alive! You're alive!" she kept repeating over and over.

Ron Weasley just wrapped his long arms around the both of them. "I knew you couldn't be dead, I just knew it!"

With that, the silence of the Great Hall was shattered by shouts and calls as it seemed everyone in the room was calling Harry's name. The confused young man looked between his two wounded friends and wondered what he had missed when he had decided to skip the Hogsmeade weekend in favor of a bit of carnality with Susan.

Suddenly a pair of cannon blasts echoed in the room, and Albus Dumbledore swept across the distance between the Staff Table and where Harry stood far quicker than a man of his years should have been capable of. With a wave of Dumbledore's wand, Ron, Hermione and Susan were forced away from Harry and Dumbledore placed his damaged left hand on Harry's shoulder, while holding his wand at shoulder height, the tip blazing with barely restrained power.

"What beverage did I serve at your relative's home the night I retrieved you before escorting you to the burrow?" the old man demanded, his eyes blazing.

"Madam Rosmerta's finest oak-matured mead," Harry recited, not understanding why he remembered that detail.

The Headmaster seemed to relax at those words. He too pulled the very confused young man into a hug, before turning to the assembled students and staff. "This is indeed Harry Potter, and it seems that much like the famous Mark Twain, reports of his death were greatly exaggerated."

Harry's "What?" was drowned out by the cheering that filled the Great Hall.

-oooOOOooo-

"What," Harry demanded, once he was escorted back to the Gryffindor table by his two best friends, "is going on?"

"Everyone thought you died," Hermione explained blushingly. "There was evidence."

"Evidence?" Harry asked, sitting down in his normal place. "What happened, did someone find my body?"

"Part of it," Hermione said.

"Part of it?" Harry asked. "What part?"

Parvati leaned over to whisper in his ear.

"WHAT?" Harry shouted, once again gaining the attention of everyone in the Great Hall. Once everyone's attention had returned to their dinners, he did a quick self-check. "Nope, still there. Definitely a case of mistaken identity."

"Well, at least Voldemort is dead," Ron sighed.

"What?" Harry asked again.

"Dead," Ron nodded. "Millicent beat his snakey head in, saying it was for you."

"Huh," Harry grunted, looking over at the Slytherin table. Upon catching Millie's eye, he winked. "I'll have to thank her."

Harry looked over the food selections on the table and started to fill his plate. He was going to need the protein.

-oooOOOooo-

"I don't understand it, Harry," Hermione was saying.

Harry pulled the ice pack off his head and peeked out at his friend. "Don't understand what?" he rasped.

"Are you all right, Harry?" she asked.

"Yeah, fine," he grunted putting the ice pack back on his forehead, hoping that he wasn't bleeding from the eyes. When Millie partied, she really partied. "What don't you understand?"

"I saw what Lavender found, Harry," she insisted. "And it's just like yours."

"Sorry," Harry sighed. "Not mine. Still got it."

"Maybe it was a polyjuice accident," Ron suggested. "What did Lav find anyway?"

Hermione blushed. "It's not important."

"I think it's important," Harry protested.

"Harry!" a new voice called out from across the common room.

"Oh, Merlin," Harry whined, "not Colin, not now."

"Be nice, Harry," Hermione scolded.

"Ron, if Colin tries to take my picture, kill either him or me, I don't care which."

"You've got it, Harry," Ron said happily.

"Harry," Colin said pushing his younger brother in front of him. "Dennis has something to tell you."

"Dennis," Harry said from under his icepack, "whatever it is, I'll sign it later, okay?"

"It's not that, Harry," Dennis Creevey said, "though if you're serious about the autographs, I'll bring some things around later."

"Dennis," Colin said warningly delivering a dope slap to the back of his brother's head.

"Sorry," Dennis said, rubbing the back of his head. "I think it was my fault that everyone thought you were dead yesterday."

Harry sat up, and regretted it, but carried on. "What do you mean?"

"How is it your fault?" Lavender asked joining Harry and Hermione on the sofa while Parvati perched on the sofa's arm.

"Well, yesterday, Mike and I were exploring Hogsmeade. Did you know they have a rendering yard?"

"Does this story have a point, Dennis?" Harry asked.

"Oh, yeah. At the rendering yard, we found a dead pony, with a really long willy," Dennis continued, "So, I look at Mike, and he looks at me, and we decided to cut it off."

"You cut off a dead pony's penis," Hermione repeated.

"Yeah. We headed back into the main part of town, where all the students hang out. We thought we'd have a laugh, you know, wave it around, use it to scare a few girls, like that. But once we got into town, we saw Professor McGonagall, and we knew that she wouldn't think it was funny, so I tossed it in an alley."

"Are you telling me that I cried over a dead pony's John Thomas?" Lavender demanded in an indignant tone. "And that I hugged and kissed it?"

"We risked our lives over a pony's penis?" Hermione asked.

"Dennis," Parvati said quietly. "If I were you, I'd start running now."

-oooOOOooo-

It got very quiet in the Gryffindor common room for several seconds after the Lavender and Parvati chased a panicked Dennis from the room.

A loud pop broke the silence when Dobby appeared before the three friends and handed Harry a small vial.

"Thanks, Dobby," Harry sighed, before downing the potion in a single gulp. He laid back on the sofa as blessed relief washed through his system.

"Dobby glad to help," the elf said before popping away.

"Well," Harry stood up and stretched. "I think I'll head down to the kitchens and grab something to eat. Coming, Ron?"

Ron had an odd look on his face as he shook his head. "No, I think I'll hang out here."

"Okay," Harry said heading for the door.

As he was passing through the portrait hole, he clearly heard Ron speaking.

"So, Hermione, we've been dating for about a year now, yes?"

"Yes," Hermione agreed.

"How is it you know what Harry's willy looks like?"

Harry let the portrait close behind him, resolving to avoid the dorm for a while.


	6. Wedding Night Blues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ron and Hermione's Wedding Night

It was late by the time Ron and Hermione finally made it to the honeymoon suite Harry had paid for as part of their wedding present.

The wedding had been a smashing success, and the following reception a wonderful time of happiness and celebration.

Now, finally, they would be alone, ready for what they had both been anticipating for so long.

Hermione rushed to the room's bath to ready herself, while Ron sat nervously on the bed.

Shedding her gown, Hermione quickly pulled the gossamer dressing gown from her overnight bag. This is what she had decided to wear the first time she presented herself to her husband in their marital bed.

After years of hearing Lavender and Parvati going on about the wonders of sex, she couldn't wait to experience it herself. She wanted to be wearing something that could quickly be discarded when the opportunity presented itself.

Reentering the bedroom of the suite, Hermione was somewhat surprised to find Ron sitting self-consciously on the bed, still fully clothed.

"Ron?" she asked softly, "Is something wrong?"

"What?" Ron asked, startled to find her standing before him, then his eyes widening when he saw her state of almost undress. "Oh… no. It's just everything has been going so well, I was afraid I would bollix something up." Ron swallowed noisily, "I guess I should get undressed now, yes?"

"Let me," Hermione said, trying not to giggle at his nervousness. She knelt before him and gently plucked at the laces of his shoes until they came undone, and then she pulled down his socks, do discover that his toes were all twisted and discolored.

"Your feet," she gasped. "What happened to your feet?"

"Oh," Ron said looking down as if he had just discovered he had feet. "When I was six I got Tolio."

"Tolio?" Hermione asked. "Don't you mean Polio?"

"No, wizards are immune to Muggle diseases like Polio," Ron explained as he pulled off his shirt. "Tolio is a magical disease that is something like Polio, but it only affects the toes."

Hermione reached up to undo Ron's belt while wondering why she had never heard of 'Tolio' before. She loosened Ron's trousers when he stood up to allow her to pull them down. When she did, she was horrified at the sight of Ron's knees. Both of them were swollen and blueish with orange spots.

"Your knees, Ron," she said in horror, "what happened to your knees."

"Ah," Ron sighed, "when I was 10, I came down with a horrible case of Kneesles."

Hermione blinked. "Surely you mean measles?"

"No," Ron said with a shake of his head. "Kneesles is a magical disease that only affects the knees."

"Of course it is," Hermione grumbled, reaching up to tug down Ron's boxers. Once again her eyes widened. "Ron," she said sadly. "How old were you when you got Smallcox?"


	7. Lessons Learned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James Potter tells a story of the adventures of his father, Harry, and his friends during the war.

Minerva McGonagall waited for the students to arrive for class, truly amused by how what had become her favorite class to teach had come about.

Brought about by the turmoil of the Voldemort war, it had been decided that Hogwarts graduates needed a grounding in ethical behavior. After much discussion between the Ministry, the Board of Governors, and her senior staff, it had been decided that a class must be taught to each cohort every year. It had been decided that rather than marking out time for a new class, which would disrupt the class schedules in place, the new class would be covered in two full-day sessions each year for each cohort.

Minerva had decided to teach the Ethics class herself and hoped that the Heads that followed her would continue to do so.

Finally, the last of the second years had settled in, looking at her expectantly

"Welcome to your second year," she said with a smile. It was odd how much easier it was to smile at her students now that she was the Headmistress rather than the Deputy with a full class load. "If you recall, your summer assignment was speak to your parents about an event from their lives where they learned a moral lesson."

Minerva paused while a look of dread washed through the room. Some things about being a teacher never lost their joy. She looked over the assembled second years, her eyes settling on James Potter. This young man had taken it upon himself to assume his grandfather's mantle as the premier prankster of Hogwarts. As such during his first year, he had proven himself almost as disruptive as his father, though, Minerva admitted to herself, poor Harry had never been much of a prankster, and he rarely sought out the trouble he found so frequently.

"Mr. Potter," she said, enjoying the look of alarm that crossed his face. "Why don't you start us off?"

Minerva moved to her desk as the boy slouched his way to the front of the room, a roll of parchment clutched in his hand.

"My dad's story happened on March the 15th 1998," the eldest of Harry Potter's children said. Minerva found herself tensing. That date was from the war. Had Harry actually told his son a story of the war he fought? The three of them had always been closed-mouthed about their adventures.

"My dad, My Uncle Ron, and Aunt Hermione were flying on brooms looking for one of You Know Who's prisons," the boy continued. "Everyone knows that Dad and Uncle Ron fly all they can, but what most people don't know is that Aunt Hermione really hates it."

A titter of laughter rippled through the room, causing James to protest, "Hey, she's really smart, and sometimes really scary. She just doesn't like to fly. Anyway, they were flying, and to keep her nerves calm, Aunt Hermione had a flask of whisky, and she was drinking from it, just a little. They knew that one of You Know Who's prisons was in the area and they were trying to find it. Unfortunately, the prison found them first, which they found out when a cutting curse sheered the twigs off of Uncle Ron's broom. Dad managed to catch him before he could fall, but their weight was too much for Dad's old Firebolt, and the two of them ended up augering into the ground."

James paused and looked at his notes. "They hit really hard. Dad broke his wand hand, and Uncle Ron ended up concussed. They were surrounded by twenty Death Eaters, and Dad thought they were both dead. Then Aunt Hermione landed right next to them and threw her empty flask at the leader. Dad said the flask brained him and he went down like a Malfoy in a fair fight."

"Mr. Potter!" Minerva scolded.

"That wasn't me," James protested, offering up his notes. "That was an exact quote from Dad."

"Carry on without slurs toward families, no matter how deserved," the Headmistress directed.

"Okay," the boy sighed. "Anyway, Hermione pulled out her wand and started hexing. She put sixteen of the Death Eaters out of the fight before someone managed to hit her with a disarming hex. Then she pulled out a knife and killed two more, only to have the blade break on the ribs of the second. The last Death Eater she killed by choking the life out of him. Dad said it was the single most horrific thing he's ever seen."

Silence filled the classroom for several seconds while the students wondered how much of the story was true and Minerva tried to reconcile the gentle girl she remembered from her classes with the dangerous woman from James' story.

"And what…" Minerva asked once she noticed James was looking at her as if he was asking if he was done, "what moral lesson did your father say he learned from this experience?"

James shrugged before he replied, "To never mess with Aunt Hermione when she's been drinking."


	8. Wild Oats

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The adventures of the War Generation cause issues for their children

High in the sky over the Potter Estate, 16-year-old James Potter said, "Dad, we need to talk."

"Do we?" Harry asked, a smile pulling at his lips. He pulled his old Firebolt into a hover and waited for James to match his maneuver. "Okay, James, what do we need to talk about?"

"Girls, Dad," the younger version of his father said. "One girl in particular. I think I've met The One."

"The One?" Harry asked, repeating the capitals he heard in his son's inflection. "Important to you is she?"

"Heather is everything," James enthused.

"Heather?" Harry asked, his blood going cold in his veins.

"Heather Bones," James nodded happily. "I know she's a year older than me, but we dated all last year, and this summer we want to get our families together so you can get to know each other…"

"Your mother and I know Susan Bones rather well, James," Harry pointed out, wondering how he was going to explain the situation to his son.

"A million years ago at Hogwarts, sure," James laughed, "and at work. We mean socially."

"Let's land, so we can have more of a conversation, Okay?" Harry suggested, nudging his broom downward.

Confused by Harry's reaction, James followed his father to the ground. Harry landed at one of the family's favorite picnic spots on the grounds of the estate, a small meadow surrounded by trees that featured a large moss-covered boulder sticking from the ground. Harry lay his broom on the ground and perched upon his favorite spot on the boulder.

"James, what do you know about the War?"

"I know it was a rough time," the younger Potter said hesitantly, "that you and Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione were in the middle of it, doing something horribly scary that none of you will talk about, and that you put Voldemort down yourself."

Harry nodded. "It was a very rough time, and most of us were only a bit older than you. Exactly what we were doing isn't important, but what is important is how we dealt with being cold, frightened, and hungry so much of the time."

"I don't understand, Dad," James said truthfully.

"Sometimes, when things were bad, we would find someone to, I don't know, cling to, just to have someone to let you know life was still worth living," Harry said.

"Oh," James said before his eyes widened with realization, "OH! You and Aunt Hermione?"

"No, no, oh lord no," Harry laughed. "You will have to be much, much older, and we will have to have been drinking far too much before I will tell you everything wrong with that idea, James. One of the women I'm talking about is Sue Bones. She and I… comforted each other and, well…"

"But…" James searched for the words, "Heather said her father was killed…"

"Susan had been seeing Justin prior to the war breaking out, and he died in the first few days after the ministry fell when the Muggle-born purges started," Harry explained gently. "I'm sorry James, but Susan and I… She didn't want… Heather is your half-sister."

"Oh, Merlin," James whispered, the color draining from his face, "the things we did…"

"Probably best not to continue the relationship," Harry said gently.

"I… I need to think," James said, grabbing his broom and kicking into the air. Harry watched as his son flew away and started thinking about what he was going to say to Susan… and Heather.

-oooOOOooo-

"This is a lovely tree, Mrs. Potter," Cassiopeia Malfoy said looking around the Potter family room at the decorations. "Your home is lovely."

"A mere shadow of the famous Malfoy manor," Ginny said with a smile, "but thank you."

"Daddy likes to brag on the family manor," Cassy admitted, "but in reality, it is so… artificial. I prefer your home, it is real, it is clear that a family lives here and that this year's decorations are different than last year's and next year's will be different yet again."

"Thank you," Ginny beamed. "If everyone will excuse me, I'm going to check on dinner."

"Oh, may I join you?" Cassy asked. "I'm never allowed in the kitchens at home."

"Of course," Ginny said, "the boys will amuse themselves."

"We'll be fine," Harry agreed as he and James watched the two women walk away.

"What do you think, Dad?" 17-year-old James asked. "Before you say anything, I know you and her father didn't get along, but…"

"Draco isn't the problem, James," Harry sighed.

"But, there is a problem?" James asked. "How? Cassy is too young to have been the result of one of your war flings."

"About a week before Draco and Astoria got married, they had a major fight that ended up with her rampaging out of Malfoy manor," Harry explained.

"and?"

"And your mother and I had a major fight that ended with us breaking up that same night. I was in the Leaky trying to drown my sorrows and Astoria came in…" Harry sighed.

"One time, one night, a week before their wedding," James protested. "That doesn't mean…"

"Draco has Cruciatus related impotence from when his father was a follower of Voldemort," Harry explained. "It's well documented what long term exposure to the Cruciatus curse will do. Draco paid dearly for betraying Voldemort to the Light. When Astoria became pregnant, he asked no questions and performed a blood adoption ritual when Cassy was born. Astoria tells me that Cassy is mine, and I have no reason to disbelieve her."

James stared at his father for several minutes. "Damn it, Dad."

-oooOOOooo-

The wedding of Rose Weasley to Michael Lovegood was the social event of the season, everyone who was anyone in British Magical Society was there, to see and be seen. Almost unnoticed in the back of the reception were the famous Harry Potter and his oldest son, now two years out of Hogwarts.

"So, the Lovegood twins?" James asked.

"Twins?" his father asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Most fathers would be proud of their son dating twins," James sighed. "Not mine of course, since he's probably also their father. You are, aren't you?"

"Yes," Harry admitted.

"Dad, they're younger than me, you can't blame the war, you can't blame it on a fight between you and Mum before you were married. What's your story for this one?"

"Luna wanted a baby," Harry sighed. "And she didn't want a husband or boyfriend hanging about getting in the way when she was hunting her cryptids, so she came to your Mother and the two of them came to me. They were very convincing."

"I bet," James said disgustedly. "Okay, how about Caroline Greengrass?"

"Yeah," Harry nodded, "she's my daughter. "Daphne and Tracey wanted kids and couldn't have them together. Astoria gave them the idea."

"Both of them? At the same time?" James asked, wondering if he should be impressed or disgusted.

"No, Tracey never liked men in general or me in particular," Harry explained. "Daphne is far more flexible in her carnality."

"Joanna Longbottom?" James asked.

"She's all Neville's," Harry smiled. "And according to her father, shares Tracey Davis' view of men, though not of me."

"Bobby Bell?"

"Not mine," Harry shook his head. "Your cousin through George before he got married."

"ARRGGHH!"

"Problem boys?" Ginny asked as she approached the table.

"Just a father/son talk," Harry shrugged.

"Those never end well, if I recall correctly from all the ones my Daddy had with my brothers," Ginny laughed. "Come on Jimmy, come dance with your old Mum."

-oooOOOooo-

Once on the dance floor, in the arms of her eldest son, Ginny looked up into his eyes, "So, what was your Dad traumatizing you with?"

James hesitated before deciding to tell his mother the truth. "Every time I meet a girl I like, Dad tells me that she is the result of a fling he had before you two were married."

"Ouch," she said with a small smile. "I had wondered why none of them ever seemed to be around very long. You have to realize, things were very different back then, Jimmy. You didn't know if you were going to live out the day, so you tended to take comfort where you could find it."

"Dad said the same thing," James said sadly. "That doesn't help when he appears to have been a one-man repopulation effort."

"Oh, Jimmy," Ginny said, reaching up to ruffle his hair. "You shouldn't let it bother you so much. It's not like Harry is YOUR father."


	9. Mistakes were made

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ron learns lessons about 'helping'

Harry entered the common room after a long day of classes. Spotting Ron, he made his way through the crowd of students to collapse on the sofa next to his best friend.

"Where have you been all afternoon?" Harry asked. "You missed Potions, and Snape was worried about you."

Ron turned to answer and Harry got a good look at his friend's face.

"Bloody hell, Ron," Harry swore. "What the hell happened to you?"

Ron reached up to touch his bandaged nose, which was clearly out of line, both of his blackened eyes watered at the light touch. "Hermione," he said in way of explanation. "She's mental."

"What happened?" Harry asked.

"Hermione and I came back to the dorms after lunch to get our things for Potions, and when she came down from her room, I noticed that she had the back of her robes tucked into her knickers."

"Oh, lord," Harry breathed, his imagination running wild with the multiple possibilities that might have resulted in Hermione's having such a violent reaction to something Ron did. "What did you do?"

"Well, I didn't want to embarrass her by telling her about it," Ron said. "I knew better because Gin is really sensitive about her knickers, so I decided to fix it myself. I thought about grabbing on the back of her robes and pulling them up, but Dad always yelled at us when we pulled Gin's robes up, so I grabbed a handful of her knickers and yanked them down."

"Oh, lord," Harry said, facepalming. It was even worse than he imagined. "Ron, you don't do something like that."

"And she went totally insane, and started punching me like I'd done something wrong," Ron continued. "She just stomped off leaving me bleeding on the floor. And then Pomfrey says that I deserved everything that happened to me, and wouldn't heal me up saying the pain would help me remember to keep my hands to myself."

Harry just shook his head. Ron was almost seventeen years old, and he still needed things like this explained to him.

"Ron," Harry sighed. "Here is where you went wrong…"

-oooOOOooo-

A week later Harry ran into the Hospital wing to find Ron in one of the beds with both of his arms in casts from fingertips to shoulder.

"Ron?" Harry gasped out of breath from his run, "I just heard you were here. What happened."

"'ermione," Ron said through clenched teeth, "she's men'al."

"What?" Harry asked, barely able to make out what his friend was saying.

"Jaw wired shut," Ron ground out, "an' I didn' do nuttin'"

"You didn't do anything, and Hermione broke both your arms and broke your jaw badly enough that it had to be wired shut?" Harry asked. "Tell me what happened."

"I was mindin' mah own bidness in the Great Hall, eatin' lunch, an 'ermione came in wid da back ob her wobes tucked into her knickers agin," Ron said painfully.

"Oh, god," Harry facepalmed. "What did you do?"

"Nuttin', I tole you, I didn' do nuttin'," Ron protested. "I remembahd wut you sed las time, and didn' do or say nuttin'. It was Malfoy who dun it."

Harry looked over at the next bed at Ron's gesture and was surprised to see Draco Malfoy laying face down, with his own broken nose and blackened eyes. His arse was protruding from the sheeting and appeared to have a woman's shoe wedged rather painfully where the sun rarely shone.

"Malfoy reached over and yanked her wobes out of her knickers and she wen' crazy on him," Ron explained.

"Okay," Harry said, clearly confused. "Malfoy is the one who laid hands on her this time, how did you get hurt?"

"I rember'd wut you sed about her knickers," Ron explained. "I figurd she wanded her wobes in her knickers, so when she was finished beatin' on Malfoy, I put dem bak."

"Oh, Ron" Harry murmured.

"An' she los' hur min'!" Ron declared. "Yuh jus' can' hep sum peple."


	10. Exchange

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Ron are tasked with a Prisoner Transfer that doesn't go as expected

Harry Potter twisted back into reality, recalling once again just how much he hated portkeys. His left hand firmly grasping the prisoner's right arm, Harry glanced to his left to ensure that his partner, Ron Weasley, had also completed the trip, and had hold of the Prisoner's left arm. He surveyed his situation. They had appeared, as expected, in a scrub desert, a two-lane blacktop road was perhaps 100 feet in front of them. The sun was high in the sky, suggesting the local noon.

"Tempus" Harry incanted, his wand falling into his hand when he began the motion. The glowing numerals danced on the tip of his wand and the Auror nodded. "Three minutes early. The representatives of the Navajo Nation should be here soon."

Ron opened his mouth to answer, but before he could a new voice interrupted.

"The representatives of the Navajo Nation are here now," a tall woman shimmered into view. "We'll be taking Hashkeh Naabah into custody now."

"I'll need to see some ID," Harry said quietly.

"What you need to do is to hand over the prisoner, Englishman," the woman hissed. "The days of you Europeans giving orders on Navajo land are over."

"Then maybe you should do a better job of keeping your trash on Navajo land," Ron interjected helpfully.

"Quiet Ron," Harry said before returning his attention to the woman. "This prisoner identified himself as Jackson Longtree and has the Muggle paperwork to back that up. He killed three people in England and was tried and found guilty for his crimes. Your government requested he be returned to you for punishment, and as a courtesy, my government agreed to this. I am not handing him over to the first person to show up and ask for him. Show me some ID or we can fight about it. For all I know you could be his sister."

The woman reached into the long leather duster she wore. Harry and Ron both tensed, only to relax slightly when her hand reappeared with an international standard badge. The same badge he and Ron wore, only the language and symbols were different.

"You've got balls, Englishman," she said. "Nine of my people are surrounding you, and you still make it a challenge. Who do you think you are? Harry Potter?"

"Ha!" Ron snorted.

Harry offered up the parchment from his own robes. "I'll need your signature on the prisoner transfer form."

The Navajo Auror accepted the forms with a sneer and scrawled her name on the line indicated before returning it to him.

Harry and Ron shoved the prisoner toward her. The woman placed her hand on the man's shoulder and canceled the silencing and blinding charms on him.

"No!" the man Harry knew as Jackson Longtree gasped. "Not you!"

"Oh yes, Hashkeh Naabah, me." She snarled. The woman's nine companions shimmered into view and took custody of the prisoner before once again disappearing as a group. "For the record, Englishman," she said, speaking to Harry once again, "I am his sister. That's what got Hashkeh Naabah so frightened. You have two hours to get off Navajo land."

Harry and Ron exchanged a worried glance. "Our portkey pretty much depleted itself getting us here and won't recharge for at least twelve hours," Harry said. "Is there any chance of you putting us up overnight?"

"That sounds like a personal problem," the woman laughed. "The rules are simple. No whites on Navajo land. There is a Muggle town twenty miles east on that road. If I were you, I'd start walking. You might make it by sundown."

Harry could only stare incredulously as she vanished from sight.

-oooOOOooo-

"Well, shit," Ron said.

"Succinct as always, Ron" Harry agreed. Again he drew his wand. "Point me."

"Well," he said once the wand had assumed its new alignment, "that way is east. I guess we start walking."

"We could try disapparating…" Ron suggested hopefully.

"Without knowing the local coordinate system, we'd end up doing ourselves damage," Harry pointed out.

"I know, I know," Ron sighed. "Any chance Colonial miles are smaller than real miles like their pints and gallons are smaller than real pints and gallons?"

"Nope," Harry laughed as the pair started their long trek, "A mile is 5,280 feet the world over, except in Belgium where it is 5,274 feet due to the Belgium chocolate covenant of 1603."

"Oh," Ron said sadly. "I wish we were in Belgium."

Harry occupied himself for the next half hour wondering if that sentence had ever been uttered before in the history of mankind.

-oooOOOooo-

The pair had been walking for more than three hours when a white pickup truck came up from behind them. The vehicle slowed down as it came alongside them until it finally came to a stop.

The driver, a woman in late middle age, dressed in denim and a well-worn work shirt rolled down the passenger window. "What the hell are you two doing out here in the middle of nowhere?"

"We were offroading," Harry said, trying to account for no vehicle being on the side of the road behind them, "but we broke down, we're heading to the town that's supposed to be down the road, hoping to find a mechanic and a hotel."

"Kinda overdressed for offroading, aren't you?" she asked.

"We're English," Harry said with a shrug, playing off the image of the Brits that all the Americans seemed to have.

"Well, hop in," she said. "It's a long hike to town, and there isn't a mechanic there anyway. The closest one is sixty miles in the other direction."

Once the pair were in the truck's cab and enjoying the blessings of air conditioning the woman continued. "Look, it will be after five by the time we get into town, and that sleepy little place rolls up its sidewalks spot on 5 p.m. Why don't you spend the night at my ranch? Tomorrow, I'm heading into the big town anyway, so I can drop you off."

"We wouldn't want to impose…" Harry said.

"It wouldn't be an imposition," she protested. "It's an invitation. I'd enjoy the company. Since my husband died two years ago, it's just been me on my own every night."

Harry looked to Ron, who shrugged. "We'd be honored," the redhead said.

-oooOOOooo-

Fifteen minutes later, the truck left the paved road moving instead onto a dirt path, through a gate, and on past grazing cattle to a large ranch house. The woman, who had told them her name was Elizabeth, told them of how she and her late husband had built this place from nothing through 28 years of marriage until he died of a heart attack one cold winter night tending to the cattle. Elizabeth waxed on about how nice it was to have guests.

The trio sat down to a lovely home-cooked dinner, similar to, yet at the same time, so very different than those prepared by Molly Weasley.

After that filling dinner, the three sat and just spoke and told stories until it was time for bed. Elizabeth led each of them to a guest room, where each of them found a comfortable bed, down pillows, and a homemade quilt.

In the morning, Elizabeth made them an enormous breakfast before they piled into her truck for the hours' drive to the town with the mechanic.

"Well, this is the place, he'll help you out," Elizabeth said.

"We can't thank you enough for your kindness," Harry said. "I wish you'd let us reimburse you for the cost of putting us up last night."

"Don't be silly," she laughed. "Last night you made this silly old woman's year, Harry."

"If you ever need anything, don't hesitate to write," Harry insisted, pressing one of his Muggle friendly business cards into her hands.

Harry and Ron watched as Elizabeth drove off before the pair ducked into the closest alley and activated their portkey home.

-oooOOOooo-

Nine months later, Ron reported to Harry's new office.

"Nice," the redhead said looking around.

"Have a seat, Ron, we need to talk," Harry said. He waited until his best friend was seated before continuing. "Ron do you remember that Prisoner Transfer to the Navajo Nation?"

"Of course I remember that Harry," Ron responded. "Why? Are they complaining about something?"

"No, do you recall Elizabeth, the woman who put us up for the night?"

"Yeah," Ron said hesitantly.

"Ron, I need to ask you something, and I need you to tell me the truth," Harry said.

"Alright Harry," Ron agreed.

"Did you slip out of your guest room that night?"

Ron's ears went red, the way they did when he was embarrassed. "Yeah," he admitted.

"Did you go to Elizabeth's room?" Harry pressed.

Ron's blush spread to the rest of his face, causing his freckles to almost disappear. "Yeah."

"Did you and Elizabeth have sex, Ron?"

"Yes," was the embarrassed reply.

"Okay Ron, this last part is the most important, by any chance did you tell her you were me when you went to her room in the dark and had sex with her?" Harry asked.

"I did Harry," Ron said hanging his head. "I'm really ashamed of myself, but I did. I'm really, really sorry Harry."

"It's all right Ron," Harry said. "It really explains a lot."

"What do you mean, Harry?" Ron asked before his eyes went wide and he lost his blush when he took on a deathly pallor. "Oh, Merlin! It's been nine months."

"Yeah," Harry nodded. "I just got a notification from Elizabeth's lawyers that she died, and she left me her ranch in her will."


	11. Bedroom Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione comes home to find Ron waiting for her

Hermione Granger entered her apartment after a very long day at work.

Sometimes she wondered if it was all worth it. She had returned to Hogwarts after the defeat of Voldemort and his followers, unlike Harry and Ron who joined the Aurors to do their part to make sure the mistakes made after the first time the madman was thought to be vanquished were not repeated.

Once her magical education was finished, Hermione found a position with the ministry and now she was trying to do her part as well.

But in all honesty, most days it was like slamming her head against a brick wall.

She put her briefcase down next to the door and unbuttoned her robes when she heard a noise coming from her bedroom.

Reflexes honed by a year on the run from some of the worst murderers the Magical world had ever known came to the fore, and her wand was in her hand without Hermione having to consciously think about it. She moved silently to the bedroom's doorway, her wand at the ready, her first spell chain already chosen. Someone was in for a very bad night.

She burst into the room, wand glowing with barely retrained power to find Ron Weasley reclined on her bed.

"Hello Hermione," the redhead said with a wide smile. "I'm off for the next three days, and so are you if Harry's grapevine is to be believed. I thought maybe we could have a little… special time together…" the doofus waggled his eyebrows at her suggestively.

Relief flooded through Hermione when she discovered that it was only Ron in her bedroom.

"Maybe we could have a special time, Ron," Hermione said with a small smile. "Why don't you start by taking off my blouse?"

Ron blinked. "R…r… really?" he stammered.

"Really," She confirmed guiding his hands. "Take off my blouse Ron."

With trembling hands, Ron picked at the buttons on the silk blouse, pulling the garment off smooth shoulders.

"Now take off my bra, Ron," Hermione whispered.

The redhead immediately moved to the clasp of the undergarment and began to struggle with it. After several moments, Hermione took pity on him and moved to unclasp the delicate lace bra herself, allowing it to fall forward and expose the delicate white flesh underneath.

"Now, take off my skirt Ron," Hermione instructed.

Again, Ron needed assistance with an unfamiliar fastener but quickly figured it out when Hermione started moving the zipper down the smooth hip, allowing the skirt to fall to the floor.

"It's time Ron," Hermione purred. "Take off my knickers."

Ron hooked his trembling fingers into the waistband of the tiny bit of white silk and pulled it down over a pair of silken legs.

"Are you ready Ron?" Hermione asked.

"Yes," the redhead agreed.

"Good," Hermione nodded. "Put your own clothes back on, and go home."

"What?" Ron asked.

"And Ron," Hermione continued, "Never wear any of my clothes again. I don't find that attractive, and now I have to wash all this.


	12. He

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After they return from Australia, Hermione discovers a few things about her parents.

"Daddy?" Hermione asked in a confused tone. "Is this what I think it is?"

"That depends," the dentist said from his position on the floor, where he was making adjustments to the positioning controls of his exam chair. The Model 1215 was a touch finicky and always needed to be tweaked into spec by the dentist who would be using it. He looked up at the nose mask his daughter was holding. "What do you think it is?"

"I think it's a scavenger mask," Hermione said hesitantly.

"And that's what it is," her father agreed as he returned to his work on his chair.

"But Daddy, you've always said that modern dentistry had no need for anesthesia, that was why you've always retrofitted all your exam chairs with the thick leather straps and paid extra for the exam room soundproofing," she protested.

"And I was right," he confirmed from under the chair where he continued to make his adjustments. "This is a little something your mother and I picked up during our time in Australia."

"Australia?" Hermione echoed guiltily.

"Quite," her father agreed, "I must admit that no one was more surprised than I by this innovation by our Australian cousins, but I have informed the BDA of this wonderful invention and the early indication is that they will move to adopt it in the UK by our next Association meeting."

Leaving her father to his adjustments, Hermione set out to solve the mystery of the Australian gas.

oooOOOooo

She had found the masks in all five of the exam rooms of the new Granger Dental Surgery. Then she started following the lines that fed them.

Hermione's guilt over sending her parents to Australia as the Wilkens had her hoping that whatever these masks were for had nothing to do with what she had done.

Finally, she found the tanks. Large brownish bronze tanks with a yellow stripe.

That didn't make the slightest bit of sense.

oooOOOooo

Elizabeth Granger heard what was coming to be the familiar squawk of a modem connecting to the internet. She entered the family's 'computer room' which had at one time been intended to be her husband's library to find Hermione waiting for her logon to the local Internet Service Provider to complete.

"Dinner is in five minutes, Love," she said gently to her daughter, who was still a bit skittish around her and her husband after their adventure down under. "What is so important that you couldn't wait?"

"It's the new therapeutic gas that Daddy said the two of you learned about in Australia," Hermione explained as she typed in her search instructions. "I don't understand how it works."

Elizabeth cocked her head to one side, "It seems fairly clear to me, Hermione. What about it is confusing you?"

"Mum," Hermione said plaintively, "the new gas is helium. Nothing I've found suggests that it has any anesthetizing abilities."

"Oh, it doesn't," her mother confirmed. "There is nothing about the helium that is therapeutic for the patients."

"It doesn't?" Hermione asked. "Then why are you using it?"

"Well, you have to remember, the patients are not the only people in the room. The Australian Dental Association holds that the therapeutic nature of the Dental Professional's workplace must be considered as well. Just as before, the patients still scream," Elizabeth admitted, "but under the helium, the screaming is hilarious!"


	13. The Truth Hurts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry takes advantage of Dobby's special talent

"Dobby," Harry said, "Do you have a moment?"

"Of course, Harry Potter Sir!" the elf responded enthusiastically, setting aside the interesting fan fiction he had found that detailed how he might have been killed in Bad Master's house by some psychotic witch throwing a knife.

"Dobby, I've noticed that none of the children has ever managed to fool you, is it true that House Elves can tell if someone is lying?"

"Oh, yes, Harry Potter, Sir," Dobby nodded so hard Harry was more than a little worried the little fellow might drop his head to the floor. "Elveses know the truth when they hear it. That is why working for Bad Master was always so hard for Dobby."

"Well, I'm glad to hear that," Harry said with a wide smile. "I've received notice from Hogwarts that James has taken to lying outrageously recently, I'd like you to help me break him of that habit over the Christmas Hols."

"What would Harry Potter, Sir have Dobby do?"

Harry smiled. "From this day forward, whenever anyone in this family lies, I would like you to smack them upside the head."

"Dobby cannot do that, Harry Potter, Sir!" the elf said in a horrified tone.

"OF course you can, Dobby," Harry insisted. "You sicced an enchanted bludger on me to try and save me, applying a little smack on James for a few weeks might save all of the children from the embarrassment of being known as liars."

An expression of deep concentration covered the Elf's face as he considered Harry's request. After several long moments, he nodded. "Dobby do."

oooOOOooo

"Lovely dinner, Ginny," Harry said as he leaned back from the table.

"Thank you, Love," his wife said with a loving smile from the other end of the table.

"So, family," Harry said, knowing that he needed to clear the air with the kids before Christmas day. "I received a disturbing letter from Minerva McGonagall about someone's behavior over the last term."

The three Potter children squirmed uncomfortably in their seats, each wondering which of their crimes had been detected while waiting for their father to continue.

"James," Harry continued, "I've heard that you were caught reading something other than your textbook in Charms class and that when Professor Flitwick tried to question you about it, you vanished the evidence before he could confiscate it."

"I don't think…" the fifteen-year-old protested.

"Your father and I aren't really interested in what you think about this matter, James," Ginny scolded gently. "We're interested in what you were reading and why you felt the need to destroy the evidence and lie about it."

"What were you reading in class, James?" his father asked.

"It was… Hogwarts: A History," the boy declared.

A POP! of an elven apparition and a loud slapping sound immediately followed that declaration.

"Ow!" James exclaimed, his hand going to the back of his head.

"Oh, did I forget to mention that Dobby will be delivering dope slaps to anyone who lies?" Harry asked with a smile. "Let us try that again shall we James? What were you reading in class?"

"A Quidditch…"

POP! SLAP!

"Ow," he exclaimed again. "Okay, okay, it was a porn magazine. Stop hitting me Dobby!"

"A porn magazine?" Harry thundered indignantly. "I can't believe you, James. When I was your age, I'd never even seen a porn magazine, much less taken one to class!"

POP! SLAP!

"Ow!" Harry said, massaging the back of his head.

"Harry Potter, sir said Dobby should deliver the punishment to all who lie in this house," the elf said apologetically. "Harry Potter, sir should remember Dobby cleaned the Gryffindor dormitory when Harry Potter, sir was Master James' age."

"Well Harry," Ginny laughed, "He is your son after all."

POP! SLAP!

"OW!" Ginny yelped holding the back of her head, looking up to find Harry and her children staring at her in horror.


	14. Clara's Discount Curses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco goes shopping

The cloaked figure cautiously made his way through the darkness of Knockturn Alley. The young man was obviously searching for something, and suddenly he appeared to have found it. He stood in the cobblestone street staring up at the sign. "Clara's Discount Curses" the sign over the storefront read. An additional note at the bottom of the sign continued: "Established 1824".

The cloaked man nodded to himself and moved to the door of the establishment. Again, he hesitated. This was a big step. There would be no turning back after he entered the shop. He steeled himself, counted to three and grasped the knob. With a flick of his wrist, he opened the door and stepped inside, only to be startled by the chime of the entry bell.

"You have rung the bell of doom," the crone behind the counter said. "You will be cursed with savings of 20% for the next 30 minutes."

The stranger stood silent in the doorway, unsure what to do next.

"What is it boy," the old woman asked impatiently, "I don't have all day."

"I wish to purchase a curse."

"Obviously," the woman sniffed. "Why else would you come to my shop? Stop wasting my time, what curse do you want to be inflicted?"

"I want someone cursed with sex," the young man said.

"Well that's a new one," the crone noted. "I've never heard anyone ask for that one before. What is it, exactly, you want the curse to do?"

"The victim will be cursed with sex all the time. Sex with hot girls. Sex with hot mothers. Sex with hot older sisters. Sometimes all at the same time." the young man explained, his face flushed.

"And just how," the old woman asked raising a single eyebrow, "could that be considered a curse?"

"Well, he'd be constantly distracted; he'd never finish his projects on time, everyone would be jealous of him, and talking bad about him behind his back. His life would be miserable."

"I see," the crone said doubtfully. "And who do you propose to inflict this curse upon?"

"Well," Draco Malfoy said hesitantly, "I guess I'd want it cast on, well, me."

The crone blinked, and then sadly shook her head. "You couldn't even talk anyone into coming in here and doing this for you, could you?"

"Everyone was busy," Draco explained.

"Get out of my shop," the old woman said sadly. "And don't come back."

"My father will hear of this," Draco declared.

"I'm sure he will," the old woman laughed, "especially since I'm going to be telling everyone I know what you tried to do, and how pathetic you were in doing it. I'm sure the laughter will attract his attention."

Draco storm from the shop almost running into another cloaked form loitering outside the shop. "Get the hell out of my way," Draco barked.

Ron Weasley bit back his retort; there was no point in calling attention to himself, even to abuse Draco. He waited until the Slytherin was out of sight, and then entered the shop.

"I want someone cursed," he announced.

"And what curse do you want young Sir," the crone behind the counter asked.

"I want to curse someone with sex…"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Writers better than I have noted that there is little real difference between Ron and Draco. Perhaps this will reinforce that idea, though in all reality if such a curse was available, pretty much every teenage boy in the world would be trying to be cursed in that manner.
> 
> This idea was happily ripped off from the webcomic OGLAF.com. Enjoy… NSFW.


	15. Harry's Little Pony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry tells the Centaurs a joke.

"Centaurs," Hagrid said pointing to the rough drawing stuck to the wall of his hut, " are a race o' creatures tha' originated in the mountains an' forests o' Thessaly. They are described as leadin' a rude an' savage life, occasionally carryin' off the women o' their neighbors, as covered with hair an' rangin' over their mountains like animals."

The half-giant waited as several of the girls finished whispering and giggling over the idea of being 'carried off' by a centaur. " O' course, we all know the Centaur are a talented an' handsome race. They are natural hunters, handy with a bow an' masters o' astrology an' other divinin' arts."

Hermione Granger's hand shot up. "Divination is an awfully wooly subject," she noted once called upon. "Are their predictions accurate?"

"Well," Hagrid sighed, "I don' know myself, but they certainly believe in their seein', an' Headmaster Dumbledore had been known to seek out their counsel on important events. Great man, Dumbledore was."

"Over the last 2000 years, the Centaur herds have spread throughout the world. They live on every continent except Antarctica, and are recognized as an independent people by most of the world's nations."

"But not Britain?" Parvati Patil asked.

"No, not Britain", Hagrid sighed, "at least not yet."

"Why," Draco Malfoy asked, his tone as dismissive as ever, "would anyone care about those savages?"

Daphne Greengrass deftly cuffed the blond's ear. "What have we been saying about keeping a civil tongue in your head?"

Pansy Parkinson delivered a dope slap to the back of Malfoy's head. "Daddy and his money aren't around to protect you anymore. Please continue Professor."

"Err… Right," Hagrid said shaking his head. He still was not used to the new reality that had exerted itself in the wake of Harry Potter defeating the Dark Lord so spectacularly in the middle of Diagon Alley. Best get back to the lesson. "Centaur culture is based upon the herd. There is always an alpha male, the Herdmaster, whose word is law fer the herd. Think o' him as the herd's Minister."

Hagrid paused, giving time for his students to make their notes. He specifically looked to Hermione Granger, half expecting her to protest the sexual inequity among the Centaurs, but beyond an angry hardness in her eyes, she offered no protest. Another change there. Both sides had taken steps to silence the more strident among them. Where the Slytherins had taken great pains to try to teach the Malfoy and Nott boys to watch their mouths, Hagrid knew that Harry himself had taken his two best friends aside and asked that they both keep their more vocal prejudices to themselves. Hagrid had overheard Harry's discussion with Hermione.

"Hermione," the man who won had said, "you can believe anything you want, just like Malfoy can. What you can't do is tell our classmates how backward their culture is. Advocate for change, certainly, but don't try and nag them into a version of the Muggle world with wands. It just won't work."

Albus Dumbledore had been a great man. Young Harry was shaping up to be one as well.

Back to class. "The Centaur family unit is a family not unlike what most o' yeh know from yer homes, a stallion an' a mare pledge their lives to each other before the Herdmaster an' with time an' luck they brin' their yehng into the world. The average centaur family produces a pair o' foals, though larger families aren' rare. Both the adults will aid in the feedin' o' their family by huntin' an' gatherin', though the stallions usually do their huntin' in groups o' four or more."

"Centaur foals are cute little things, they love to play and laugh. As they get older and start learning the stars and their patterns, they become more… adult. Quiet, reserved, on occasion you may meet a centaur who smiles, but you'll never meet an adult to laughs."

The whispering rushed through his class again. In the distance at the edge of the forest, Hagrid spotted movement. Just in time. Every year before covering centaurs Hagrid went into the forest to speak with Magorian to request a representative of the herd for his class. Usually, Ronan or Firenze was the volunteer, occasionally one of the higher ranking mares of the herd, but this year the representative was Bane.

Hagrid suspected that Bane had somehow annoyed the Herdmaster and that this was his punishment. Usually, the representative of the herd would approach the class and answer questions, but Bane had made it clear that he was only to be observed from a distance.

"And our representative from the Herd is here," Hagrid said gesturing toward the forest. " Normally, this is where I offer an O fer the year to the student who could make the centaur laugh, but seein' as the centaur is Bane …"

"Make him laugh for an O?" Harry Potter said rising from his seat. "I'll take that bet,"

"Harry," Hagrid said cautiously, "that's Bane lad."

"No worries Hagrid," Harry said sticking his wand in the back pocket of his trousers and starting to roll up the sleeves of his shirt. "Bane and I are old friends."

The class watched silently as the Man who won made his way from Hagrid's makeshift outdoor classroom to the edge of the forest. As Harry approached the centaur, Bane nocked an arrow and drew it fully obviously threatening Harry Potter.

"I don't believe it," Malfoy said wondrously. "Scarhead survives the Dark Lord and ends up getting killed by a centaur."

Hagrid kept his attention focused on Harry, and ignored the sound of the double dope slap delivered to the former prince of Slytherin house by the two young women that had taken it upon themselves to teach him to control his mouth.

Harry stood before the angry centaur with his hands raised to show he held no wand. The distance was too great for anyone to hear the conversation between the wizard and the centaur, but slowly, Bane lowered his bow and restored the arrow to his quiver. As Harry continued to speak, Bane slowly tilted his head to one side, and then suddenly, the centaur began to smile. After a few more moments, Bane's shoulders began to shake, and then the centaur pitched forward onto the knees of his front legs as laughter echoed from the forest to Hagrid's hut. The entire class looked on as the centaur began slapping the ground in his mirth. Once Bane rolled over onto his left side, wrapping his arms around his stomach as he continued to laugh uncontrollably, Harry bowed slightly to the laughing centaur and made his way back to the class.

"Well," Harry said as he took his seat. "I guess I just passed Care."

"That," Hagrid said in amazement, "has never happened before."

-oooOOOooo-

"I don't see why I have to come to class," Harry protested as Hermione Granger marched him to Hagrid's class. "I got an O for the year, remember?"

"You still have to pass your N. E. W. T.s, Harry," Hermione huffed.

As the class gathered, they could all still see the centaur Bane at the forest edge, along with a pair of others that the class didn't recognize.

"Harry!" Hagrid called as he spotted his favorite student approaching. "Bane so enjoyed your joke, he wants you to tell it to some of his friends."

"I don't know Hagrid," Harry said with a frown. "I wouldn't want to milk the joke. Besides, I've already passed the course, what's in it for me?"

"To make the centaurs laugh?" Hagrid smiled. "No, I wouldn't give you anything for that, but if you can make them cry… I'll pass the whole class with O's."

Harry looked about the class and found some rather hopeful looks from his classmates. "Alright, fine. Three crying centaur, coming up."

Parvati and Hermione exchanged looks as Harry made his way to the waiting centaur. "Did he tell you what he did to get Bane to laugh?"

"No," Hermione admitted. "I couldn't get it out of him."

"You don't really think he can make the centaurs cry do you?" Pansy asked.

"I can't imagine how," Daphne said shaking her head, but I won't turn down an O for the year."

"Scarhead will probably just tell them his sad life story," Malfoy snarked, before yelping at the receipt of the dope slap.

Hagrid watched as Harry reached the trio of centaur. As the day before they were too far away to be heard, but the three centaurs were laughing almost immediately. Harry stood for a few moments and began to speak again. Hagrid couldn't make out what the boy was doing, but a shocking look filled Bane's face, with the other two following in short order. Then the Centaur's faces shifted to looks of horror and perhaps… envy? Then the tears began to flow from the three forest dwellers, as the three clutched at each other sobbing inconsolably.

After a few moments, Harry left the crying centaur to return to his class.

-oooOOOooo-

Hagrid was true to his word. He didn't know how Harry had managed to make the centaurs laugh and cry, but he awarded the class with their uniform grades of O.

Harry just smiled whenever someone asked him how he had performed his trick. No one could get a hint of what he had done.

So it wasn't really surprising when his year mates cornered him in a quiet hallway of the castle.

"Alright Potter, spill," Sue Bones demanded. "What did you do?"

"Does it matter?" Harry laughed. "Everyone in N. E. W. T. Care has an O for the year. Why would it matter how I did it?"

"It matters," Su Li said. "We need to know. The ability to make a Centaur laugh may be important someday."

"Hermione?" Harry asked.

"Don't look to me to save you, Harry," his bushy haired friend said. "I want to know too."

"Fine," Harry huffed. "You're all a bunch of pushy spoilsports."

"Just shut up and tell us, Potter," Daphne growled.

"Ooh, that's sexy," Potter snarked. "Growl for me again."

"Do you want me to hurt you, Potter?" She growled again.

"Yes, please," Harry said with a shiver.

"Harry!" Hermione said threateningly.

"Alright, alright. To make Bane laugh, I told him my John Thomas was bigger than his."

The crowd went silent for a moment.

"Yeah, that would do it," Justin Finch-Fletchly said with a nod and a wide grin.

"Good one Scarhead," Malfoy laughed. "Yeah, that would make the centaur laugh."

As a group, the girls all rolled their eyes at the immaturity of males that evidently crossed species.

"Fine, you told him a stupid penis joke to make him laugh," Pansy sighed. "How did you make the three centaur cry?"

"Hmm?" Harry asked. "Oh, I showed them I was telling the truth."

Harry walked away from the group, never noticing that the girls were following him, or that the boys all started to cry.

-oooOOOooo-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: If you didn't see that coming, you are obviously too cultured and refined to be reading my crap.


	16. Taming the beast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another day in Hagrid's Care of Magical Creatures class.

"This, o' course is a Manticore," Hagrid said as he guided his class to the paddock, " Manticore are native to the lands o' old Persia, an' were imported throughout Europe by the Greek wizards durin' their war against the Muggle Persian kin' Xerxes, 'cause they wanted to add to their armies beasties tha' they knew the Persian Army knew an' would fear."

"Yeh'll note tha' the Manticore is similar to the Egyptian sphinx, a close cousin. It has the body o' a red lion, a human head with three rows o' sharp teeth not unlike a shark, an' a voice like a trumpet. Other aspects o' the creatures vary between sub species. Some are horned, some are winged, an' some, like this beauty, has both. The tail is similar to tha' o' a scorpion an' they have been known to shoot poisonous spines to either paralyze or kill its victims. Manticores traditionally devour their prey whole, leavin' no clothes, bones, or possessions o' the prey behind."

Hagrid looked over his class. "Now, I'm not goin' to sugar coat it fer yeh. This beauty is feelin' a bit grumpy this mornin'." He raised his right arm to show the shroud of bandages that covered all the exposed skin and disappearing up the sleeve of his greatcoat. " Now, yer N. E. W. T. requirements fer Creatures say tha' yeh must be able to subdue a manticore. Yeh can use yer wand o' course, or if yeh prefer, yeh can use the shields nets an' swords fer the traditional methods. So, who wants to go first?

Lavender Brown looked up at the Professor who towered over her. "I'll go first."

The buxom blonde walked past the collection of nets, the pile of shields, and the swords to enter the paddock, coming to a stop inside the enclosure, her wand still in her pocket. She looked at the huge beast and smiled.

The manticore started to snarl and pant. Maintaining eye contact with the witch, the beast raised its deadly tail and charged the seemingly defenseless woman. When the creature was five yards away Lavender opened her robes to reveal her devastatingly beautiful naked body.

The manticore stopped dead in its tracks, skidding to a stop in front of the young woman. It blinked owlishly, issued a sound that sounded far more like a squeak than any sound ever made by a trumpet, and sheepishly crawled up to Lavender, starting to lick her ankles. The creature continued to lick up her legs, first, her calves, the back of her knees, then on to her thighs, and then higher still, causing Lavender to issue a startled squeak of her own. After several moments of Lavender lovingly stroking the back of the creature's head, it settled down at her feet, looking up to her in a worshipful manner.

Hagrid stared open-mouthed at the scene before him, before turning to face his class.

"Well," he said. "I can' say I've ever seen tha' particular technique before. Who's next? Who thinks they can do better then?" Hagrid looked at the faces of his class. " What about yeh Harry? Are yeh up to it?"

"Sure, no problem," Harry replied, shrugging out of his robes and rolling his shoulders. "Get that damned Manticore out of the way."


	17. Wishes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On Vacation, Ron encounters a Genie

Ron Weasley was walking along the beach at Blackpool when something caught his eye. There in the surf was what appeared to be a bottle of some kind. Looking about to make sure no one was watching, he drew his wand and summoned the bottle to his hand.

Examining it closely, Ron recognized it for what it was. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and using the cleaner side, set to polishing the bottle.

A genie appeared before him.

"I am the genie of the bottle!" the Genie proclaimed before he blinked and examined Ron closely. "Oh hell, you're a wizard," the genie noted, "OK, You released me from the lamp, blah blah blah. As a reward, you get a single wish."

"Hey," Ron sputtered. "Three wishes. Everyone knows Genies grant three wishes."

"You're a wizard, asshole," the Genie spat. "Your whole freaking life is one long wish. You let me out of the bottle, so the Guild Rules say I have to give you something, but no one ever said I have to treat you like a normal schlub! You're only getting one wish!"

"Fine!" Ron responded matching Genie's vitriol. "I want to go back to when I was 11, I want another chance at life, with the knowledge I've got now of just how I screwed everything up. I want to fix everything I ever did wrong, I want to be deserving of the friends I had, and I want to be smart enough not to drive them away. I want to be a better me."

The genie laughed and said, "Time Travel? Are you out of your mind? Have you got any idea how much your 'do over' could cost the universe? I mean, just think of the logistics involved in something like that. You could unravel time itself. Forget about it. No, think of another wish. "

"Fine," Ron snarled at the obnoxious Genie. "Right, I'll come up with something else."

So Ron sat down on the beach and stared at the ocean. For more than an hour, he was silent, deep in thought. Finally, he said, "You know Genie, I've been married and divorced three times. My wives always said that I didn't care and that I was insensitive. It was so bad that now when I accidentally run into Hermione, my first wife, she has to be physically restrained so that she doesn't do me damage. Luna put a contract out on me, and Lavender… well Lavender really holds a grudge. I know I'm no prize, why else would I have asked for that do-over? But I want to make it up to them. So, I wish that I could understand women, know how they feel inside and what they're thinking when they give me the silent treatment, know why they're crying, know what they really want when they say "nothing," I want to know how to make them truly happy. I want to make peace with the women in my life."

Ron looked up at the Genie that towered over him. The Magical Being nodded once and raised his arms to the sky, calling on magics unknown and unknowable.

"So, the genie said, "Back to when you were eleven, right?"


End file.
